Christmas Blues
by Tabitha12
Summary: By Mary and Amanda. It's Christmas time, 1970, and Carolyn Muir is feeling anything but Christmasy. Can Daniel Gregg and his crew mates help her find her Christmas spirit again? A Day On Universe story.


_**All canon characters belong to their creators and 20th Century Fox. Dash and Sean belong to Amanda and Mary. A 'Day On Universe' story. Merry Christmas!**_

**Christmas Blues**

Mary and Amanda

**Thanksgiving, Thursday, November 26, 1970**

It had been a long week for the inhabitants of Gull Cottage. Ralph and Marjorie, Bobby Muir's parents, had invited themselves to Thanksgiving when Carolyn had declined their invitation to come spend the holiday in Philadelphia. At last, though, they were leaving. As soon as lunch was over, they'd be on the road, and life could get back to as normal as life could be with one resident and two frequent guest-ghosts.

Said-spirits were attending the luncheon in human guise, and trying very hard not to look too bored, impatient, or infuriated as Ralph spun one final tale of the Great Bobby Muir.

"Cool, Grandpa," Jonathan enthused at one point.

The older man nodded, pleased with this reaction. "Yes, indeed, Johnny. Now, if you attended Dexter Academy, I bet you'd win first prize, too, plenty of times, just like your dad."

"Really, I don't think..." Carolyn began, for what felt like the ten-thousandth time.

"Dessert, anyone?" Martha interrupted.

Before Lord Dashire could open his mouth, Marjorie Muir shook her head. "We really need to get on the road. Didn't you hear the thunder a minute ago, Ralph? I'd like to beat the rain."

With a sigh, Ralph acceded to her advice. "Yes. No, thank you, Betty. It was an excellent meal, though."

As he and the others pushed away from the table, Martha inclined her head, "Thank you, Mr. Sheldon."

"Betty, how often must I tell you, my name is not Sheldon," Ralph remonstrated.

"What a coincidence," Martha smiled. "My name isn't Betty."

"Would you care for some help with your luggage?" the beardless man, known as 'Danny,' but who was really Captain Gregg, asked with forced pleasantness.

"Yes, that would be very nice of you," Ralph accepted.

As unobtrusively as possible, 'Danny,' Dash, and Sean O'Casey hurried upstairs so as to hasten the leave-taking.

While they were gone, Ralph turned to his former daughter-in-law. Not noticing the slight tension around her eyes, he said, "Think about Dexter, that's all I ask, Carolyn. But, if you insist on being stubborn, at least you do have some good male influence around. That Danny seems like a strong sort, and so do his friends. Much better than that Captain Gregg fellow you were dating last time we were here."

Not sure what to say, Carolyn simply replied, "Thank you, Ralph." With great relief, she heard the clumping of three pairs of booted feet toting the suitcases down the stairs.

When the last bag was loaded, and the car out of sight, Daniel's face morphed back into his regular features. "You can retrieve the Madeira you've kept hidden for me now, Dash."

"Gladly," the nobleman said. "But, first, I would like that dessert my dearest Martha promised."

"Say it again," the housekeeper asked. "Or just two words. _Dearest Martha_. It is SO good to hear my name again!"

"Martha, dear, dear, Martha," the genial lord obliged with a smile.

"I do think they mean well," Carolyn said, a bit reluctantly, "but I am glad they're gone. I thought they'd drive us all to insanity at times. Wanting to ship Jonathan off to Dexter…"

"Mom, you aren't really sending Jonathan away, are you?" Candy Muir asked, concern written all over her face.

"No, sweetie," Carolyn answered.

"Good," Candy nodded her head decisively. "Jonathan needs to stay here."

"Mom?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, Jonathan?" she asked, looking down at her small son.

"Why doesn't Grandfather ask me what I want? I know already. I don't want to go anywhere without you and Candy and the Captain."

"I don't know," she answered, shaking her head and putting an arm around her son. "But it doesn't matter. You aren't going anywhere for a long, long time, yet, and that's that."

"Yay!" he shouted, and the others joined him in the sentiment.

"Well, if you'll pardon my sayin', Carrie, I think it's a real Thanksgiving now. 'Tis good to be ourselves again, after all," Sean sighed.

"It certainly is," Carolyn nodded, tiredly. "Dash, if you see your guru, give him my thanks. Without his teaching Daniel to be solid more of the time, I don't know what we would have done. I think, maybe, Ralph realizes after this visit, I can handle my own social life."

"I certainly HOPE so," Daniel nodded. "I don't think I could have lived with the idea of Claymore pretending to be me again… or another night of coaching him. I haven't Fontenot's patience when it comes to teaching. Not for instructing Claymore, anyway."

"I don't think Claymore would be much more teachable that Elroy Applegate," Candy piped up.

"An excellent point, lass," Sean smiled.

"I'll go get the pie," Martha said. "Who wants some?"

A chorus of "me's," led by Dashire, answered her, but Carolyn shook her head. "I think I'd like a nap, Martha. You all go ahead."

"Allow me to serve," Sean offered, vanishing before Martha could refuse.

"You DO look tired, my dear," Daniel said, taking Carolyn's arm in his. "You've had a long day, and you have been overdoing it again. You should get to bed early tonight."

"I have two stories due next week!" she protested. "I was going to take a nap and then work late…"

"They can wait until another day," he said firmly, taking her hand in his and starting toward the house.

"I suppose you're right," she sighed. "Until tomorrow, anyway." Giving in, Carolyn let herself be guided inside, leaning on Daniel's arm.

Martha looked after her employer thoughtfully.

"Odd..." she mused.

"Hmm?" Dash asked, offering the housekeeper his arm also, and a courtly gesture the older woman loved. "What is it?"

"Probably nothing," Martha shrugged. "It's just that Mrs. Muir has NEVER turned down my pumpkin pie before, regardless of how much she eats at Thanksgiving Dinner, and she didn't eat that much, today." She shrugged again. "Probably nothing, though."

"Most likely," Dash agreed. "But your desserts are not. Shall we adjourn, fair lady?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Martha grinned, and the two made their way to the house.

XXX

"I really should be working, not sleeping," Carolyn said again as they reached the door of the master cabin. "I got terribly behind while Ralph and Marjorie were visiting… showing them around and all."

"I noticed," the Captain nodded, gesturing to the door, opening it and leading her inside. "You did entirely too much for them while they were here."

"They don't visit that often," Carolyn shrugged. "And Candy and Jonathan ARE their grandchildren. All of Bobby they have left."

"'They certainly talked about him enough while they were here," Daniel grumbled. "I know Robert Muir was their son, and… well, in all due modesty, I was mourned, too, but at a certain point, enough is enough."

"I'm not arguing the point at all," Carolyn sighed.

The Captain stopped in his tracks as he watched his lady settle into an armchair by the fireplace.

"I thought you wanted a nap?" he asked in puzzlement.

"I do. In this chair," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's a little chilly, would you hand me a blanket or afghan?"

"Wouldn't you sleep better in the bed?" Daniel frowned.

"I'm not sleeping. I'm napping. There is a difference," Carolyn obstinately returned.

Looking into her eyes, the ghost could see how determined she was, as well as how much she needed to nap or sleep, though he could not see a confounded bit of difference in the two terms. _Females!_

Giving in, he lifted his shoulders in defeat and manually picked up a light blanket. As he settled it around her, he allowed, "I suppose I should have recalled that you like to do this — sleep in a chair. Nap in a chair, rather. Just as you did your first day at Gull Cottage."

"Umm-hum," she murmured, drifting off. "But no opening the windows this time, okay?"

"You know perfectly well I just didn't want any accidents with that blasted heater," he smiled, kissing her tenderly.

Carolyn yawned again. "I know. You're sweet to look out after me."

"Always and forever... and I am NOT sweet," he retorted. "Sleep well, love," he added, and then kissing her once more, he dematerialized from her sight — or what would have been her sight if she wasn't already fast asleep.

XXX

"Carrie settled in?" Sean asked as the spirit reappeared in the kitchen.

"Yes. It took no time at all," Daniel answered. "Although I will never understand her preference for an easy chair and ottoman over that perfectly good bed. Why, I brought that bed back from one of my first voyages, and it is as sturdy today as the day I bought it. Stubborn woman thinks _chairs _are for napping." He looked around. "Where are the children?"

"Finished their pie in record time and busy in the living room," Martha smiled. "Candy is working on a current events project for school… clipping newspaper articles, and I think Jonathan is helping her… or playing with Scruffy… one of the two."

"Commendable of Candy, not letting her schoolwork wait until the last minute," Daniel nodded.

"I thought so," Dash nodded. "I didn't think to ask Jonathan if he had any."

"He's probably waiting until Sunday, hoping it will go away," Martha chuckled. "That's the way he usually handles things." She turned back to Captain Gregg. "Pie, Captain? And coffee?"

The spirit nodded. "Yes, please," and looked thoughtful.

"Something bothering you, Danny?" Sean asked. "You're not worried about the Muirs suspecting anything, are you? About us being spirits, I mean."

Daniel shook his head. "No — not at all. If anything I think Mr. Muir was relieved not to see Claymore anywhere about, not that I blame him for that! Thank you, Martha," he added as the housekeeper set a large piece of pumpkin pie, topped off with fresh whipped cream down in front him, followed by a mug of black coffee.

"Then why the look?" Lord Dashire asked. "Come now, my old friend. We've known each other too long not to know when something's afoot. What is it?"

"It's just that…"

"That... what?" Sean prodded gently.

"It just seems that Carolyn hasn't been quite herself the last few days," Daniel started. "She's been a bit too quiet. Almost withdrawn. She let Mr. Muir just go on and on and…" He glanced at Martha. "I suppose I am being a bit forward, but…"

"No, you aren't," the woman interjected. "I noticed the same thing."

"In-laws can cause that reaction," Dash said, sipping his coffee. "Even sort of ex-in-laws." He took another bite of pie, swallowing before he continued. "I know my late wife used to say I was quieter when her parents were around."

"And versa-visa, I'm sure." Sean grinned. "In-laws can be tricky people to deal with." His face darkened. "Well, I donna know her well as you do, but normally I might think Ralph is enough to make anyone act not like themselves — but with both Martha and Danny taking note of it, I'll agree also. She doesna seem quite the Carolyn we know."

Martha frowned, glancing up at the calendar on the wall. "Oh, blast. I bet I know what has got her down… maybe. The day after tomorrow is Mrs. Muir's birthday. She has nothing to worry about, unlike myself, age or looks wise, but maybe she is worried about being another year older?"

"Stuff and nonsense," the Captain interrupted. "Utter poppycock. She's even more lovely than the day we met."

"Sweet of you to say, Captain," Martha smiled, "But be that as it may, women do get touchy on that subject. Why do you think my birthday is a state secret?"

"Rubbish," Dash cut in. "When will humans learn that soul and spirit is what counts and that you, dear lady, and Carolyn, have spirits that shine brighter than the most beautiful star?"

"Ohh… I do LOVE that kind of talk!" Martha glowed, and cut off another hunk of pie and placed it on Dash's plate. "More pie, your Lordship?"

"Keep up that line of talk, Dash, and you will be the first spirit that needs to go on a diet!" Sean smiled. "Martha, if I tell you that you are a woman among women, and a pearl among those, do you think I might have another piece of pie also?"

"Gladly," Martha beamed, placing another piece on Sean's plate. Then she turned back to Daniel. "Don't worry, Captain. I think all Mrs. Muir is, is tired and worn out from being pleasant around Ralph. We'll make plans and make sure that she has a wonderful day on Saturday. I bet that's all that's bothering her. Now, come," she added, "relax and enjoy the rest of Thanksgiving. Mrs. Muir will be up in an hour or so and back to her usual self, most likely. You have nothing to worry about."

"You're right, Martha," the seaman smiled, but to himself, he couldn't help but wonder:

_Somehow, I don't think being another year older is all there is to it._

XXX

Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, was a quiet day in the Muir household. Carolyn, in spite of her nap and earlier-than-usual bedtime, hit the 'off' button on her alarm clock and slept another hour — blasting when she came downstairs that she had overslept, and never mind breakfast, and where was the coffee, please, she had a busy day. Pausing only long enough to kiss her children and her favorite ghost, she did just what she mentioned the day before — she went upstairs to her 'office' to work on her latest article for the _Boston Globe_.

Sean O'Casey and Lord Dashire popped in as soon as Carolyn was out of sight, and together the family spent the next hour or so making the final arrangements and plans for Carolyn's birthday the next day. Two back-to-back phone calls from Kyle Gorden and Linda Coburn, asking if Jonathan and Candy could come in to town to play, solidified the children's plans for the rest of the day. Sean and Dash took off to go do whatever spirits do, and Daniel took advantage of the quiet to update his neglected logs. Along toward the middle of the afternoon, since it was warmer than the day before, Carolyn and Daniel took a long walk, talking about a little of everything but nothing in particular. They arrived home about four-thirty; Carolyn working in her room again until the children arrived home for dinner. Afterwards, since most of what was on television was reruns and/or football, and nobody in the family was particularly partial to either the family played a game of Chinese checkers. Carolyn retired a bit earlier that night, pleading a long day at the typewriter. Again, her quiet demeanor puzzled the seaman a bit, but when he questioned Carolyn, she only said she had spent a hard day on the article, compiling notes and writing and was "only tired."

**November 28, 1970 - Saturday**

If this was a dream, Carolyn did not want to wake. She felt a rough beard brush her cheeks as lips kissed her. A softly insistent voice said, "Time to wake, Sleeping Beauty. I've been sent to bring you down to your birthday."

"Wake up?" Carolyn murmured, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him close for another sweet kiss. "Well, my dear Captain, this is a marvelous way to start."

"It's a marvelous way to start a day even if it wasn't your birthday." He smiled down at her and helped her rise. "But as it is, the entire crew is waiting for you, and I don't think I can hold them off much longer."

"I suppose not," she grinned, reaching for her robe, but not before giving him another quick kiss. "I think you and the children look forward to my birthday more than I do."

"And why not?" Daniel asked. "The day you were born is VERY important to me!" He gave her a look that said much more than his words, and then vanished, leaving her to dress — the taste of her still on his lips.

Carolyn was greeted in the kitchen with the smells of hot coffee, bacon and waffles and cheers from Martha, her children, Sean and Dash, mad barking from Scruffy and another kiss from her beloved ghost.

"You are being kidnapped for the day," Martha announced, when they all pushed themselves away from the breakfast table. "Captain, you get Mrs. Muir out to the car while I rinse these sticky plates. I'll be there in two shakes."

"Aye-aye," he nodded, taking Carolyn's hand.

"But, don't I get to know where I am going?" Carolyn asked, watching her children dance in front of her.

"Not a chance," Sean replied. "You're lucky we don't follow Jonathan's advice," he added. "He wanted to blindfold you until we get to where we are going, but we explained to him that if we did that, you wouldn't enjoy the drive."

"I'm still not sure that we all will!" Dash's eyes crinkled with laughter as he surveyed his Captain. "You're still not used to these contraptions, are you, Danny?"

"I'm learning," he chuckled, opening the car door for Carolyn, allowing her to get in first. "Actually, I find them fascinating, and certainly much quicker than horse, just not as attractive, and I STILL hate the smoke they spew out."

The hour's ride on the freeway seemed to take no time at all. With what Dash called a "stroke of brilliance," Martha had discovered that the Maine State Museum was running a special exhibit of dresses and jewelry from the 1700's clear through to modern day — from royalty, famous persons and the like. The special entrance fee was reasonable and with the exhibit being so far from Schooner Bay, that Daniel could appear as himself, as it was unlikely that they would run into anyone they knew, even over a long holiday weekend. Then if they did see someone familiar, it would be easy for Daniel to morph into 'Danny' for a few moments.

The day that followed was joyful. There were plenty of exhibits to see, much to do, lunch in the museum restaurant, more exhibits, and a special documentary in the museum theater. To be sure, Jonathan, by the middle of the afternoon WAS getting just a little bored with what he termed "girl stuff," to which the Captain replied:

"Sometimes, Jonathan, the best thing you can do for someone on their birthday is to let them have fun in their own way. You need to learn that now. It will serve you well, later on in life." The boy looked doubtfully, then skeptically at the spirit, and he continued. "Your mother went to a football game with you on your birthday, Jonathan. You were gone for ages, and you remember how cold it was that afternoon."

"But it went into overtime!" the boy complained. "It wasn't my fault!"

"Of course not, lad," the seaman soothed him. "But football isn't your mother's favorite thing in the whole world — you know that. Now she deserves nice day, too, and she is enjoying herself here."

"I suppose," he sighed.

Daniel regarded the boy's pensive face thoughtfully. "Maybe we can slip off and look at the armory section of the museum?"

Jonathan's face brightened. "That'd be NEAT. Captain!"

The crew headed home around four-thirty. Unbeknownst to Carolyn, Sean had pulled what Claymore Gregg would call a 'ghostie,' and popped home about three-thirty in the afternoon… just long enough to put Martha's pre prepared pot roast dinner in the oven. The smell greeted them as they walked in the door.

After a magnificent dinner, it was time for cake and presents. "Presents first!" the children insisted, and the adults — at least those giving gifts, agreed.

XXX

Carolyn reached for the first gaily-wrapped present and opened it slowly.

"Mom, hurry up!" Candy exclaimed. "Uncle Dash told me what he found for you, but wouldn't let me see. He said it was supposed to be a surprise."

"I like to stretch good things out when at all possible," Carolyn smiled, and with that she removed the rest of the paper and opened the box. "Dash, these are lovely!" Carolyn exclaimed, pulling out antique handkerchiefs. "Handmade?"

The spirit gave a good impression of flushing. "I hope you don't mind second-hand, dear lady. I had five daughters, and fortunately, one of the middle girls, Charity, shared your initial. You know how moving goes. You always leave something behind. When she moved to the Wild West with her husband, she left a few things behind."

"My present to you, Mrs. Muir, is the pot roast we all ate tonight — both the roast itself and the cooking of it," Martha said. "With Sean's help, that is! Also, I took care of the entrance fee into the museum today and… here." She held out a package.

Carolyn took it in her hands, squeezed it gently and a smile lit up her face. "If this what I think it is…" Quickly, she tore open the package and gave a big smile. "You knitted me new slippers!" she cried. "Green… my favorite color!" In moments, her shoes were off and the slippers were on. "I did _sooo_ need a new pair, Martha! You did too much!"

"And you don't even know what kind of cake she made yet!" Jonathan exclaimed. "It's…"

Quickly, Candy put a hand over her brother's mouth. "Shh! Jonathan! It's supposed to be a surprise!" To her mother she added. "Open Uncle Sean's present next, Mom."

"Not yours?" Carolyn asked with some surprise. "Don't you want me to? Candy, take your hand off Jonathan's mouth."

The little girl complied.

"Yeah, sure, but you need to open Uncle Sean's present first and then ours will make more sense," Jonathan cut in. "Candy, don't do that! Ya could just say 'shut up.' Just go ahead, Mom."

"But I'm not allowed to say that either," Candy argued.

"Both of you, hush," Sean smiled. "Here Carrie," he added, holding out a small package. "From me to you. Happy birthday."

Silently, Carolyn opened the present and pulled out an intricately carved pen and pencil holder. She stroked the wood lovingly. "Sean this is beautiful! Where on earth did you find it? I've never seen anything like it before."

"I didn't find it," the spirit answered, pleased, "I made it. Unlike friend Dashire, I had no money to buy you anything, so I used a piece of wood I found not far from here and carved it. Martha found the brass pen and pencil holder parts on an old one at the church rummage sale last week. That made it complete. As a holder, anyway!"

"Now open ours!" the children burst out.

"Yeah, and you'll see why we waited to give you ours after Sean gave you his!" They handed her a small, flat package.

Carolyn did as requested and pulled out a beautiful Cross pen and pencil set.

"Children! It's lovely!" she exclaimed.

"See, Mom?" Candy pointed to the penholder she had just received. "Our present fits into Uncle Sean's present! You can see them both at the same time!"

"Let me show you…" Jonathan jumped in. In moments, he had the pen and pencil placed where they belonged. They did indeed make a handsome combination.

"My turn," Daniel said quietly, pulling a small box from his pocket and placing it in her lap. "I hope you like it, my dear. Like Sean, my funds are somewhat nonexistent, or unobtainable from the lily-livered sea worm, and until I can figure out a way to access them, or make more money, I am afraid your gifts are relegated to whatever I can find in my wheelhouse that looks, as the children say, 'like you'."

"I'm sure I'll love it, whatever it is," Carolyn whispered. Quickly, she removed the foil wrapping and looked at a small white box. Her hands trembled as she opened it. There, nestled on some cotton balls, was a small piece of scrimshaw. Looking closer at the beautiful piece, she let out a small giggle. "It's lovely, Daniel," she giggled again, and gave her ghost a very special look.

"What's so funny, Mom?" Candy asked, peering over her mother's shoulder at the ivory piece, carved with a lady in Victorian dress, holding a lace parasol. "I think it's really pretty. Captain Dad found it in his chest. He said it reminded him of you and I thought so, too." She looked worried. "You do like it, don't you? Martha and I helped him mount it and put it on a chain."

"Of course I do! It's beautiful!"

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Long, story, sweetie." Carolyn smiled again, took the piece from its box and looped the long chain over her neck. "The Captain gave me a parasol once as a present, then exchanged it for a beautiful piece of scrimshaw — the one that sits on the mantle in my room. That was before you knew about him… you, too, Martha," She turned to her housekeeper. "Guess you have heard the story now?"

"Right," Martha nodded. "One more little mystery explained."

"At least," Carolyn said, looking up at the Captain. "The best of both worlds. I love it, Daniel."

"Time for cake and ice-cream!" Jonathan shouted, and the tender moment was broken.

As the evening progressed, Daniel found his worries for Carolyn fading. She clearly was delighted with the gifts and all other aspects of the day. Sean and Dash helped Martha clean up the kitchen before departing for the evening. When everyone had either gone or turned in, Daniel invited her up to the wheelhouse to toast her birthday with Madeira, just the two of them.

All in all, it was a lovely day.

**December 5, 1970 - Saturday**

It was ridiculous. There was no earthly reason, and certainly no _unearthly_ one for Carolyn Muir to feel glum. She was not one of those women who sobbed over aging a year, and though Christmas shopping was a challenge, that was not supposed to make one blue. Yet, as the holidays edged closer, a lingering sadness cast a gray veil over everyday life. Determinedly, she hid it, trying to stay busy with her writing and getting ready for the holidays, and that only made it worse.

Of course, part-time stringing work for Mark Finley was reason enough in and of itself to make one feel a bit down in the mouth. However it did help pay the bills and would help with Christmas shopping. So far, Daniel hadn't even fussed too much about it.

Today's assignment was to take pictures of the decorations festooning the little church in town for the next edition of the weekly paper.

As Carolyn walked toward the building, another woman strode up from the opposite direction. Schooner Bay was such a small town that Carolyn THOUGHT she knew everyone there, but this lady's face was not clicking in her mind.

Something of her puzzlement must have been written on the young widow's face, because the stranger extended one gloved hand. "Hi, I'm Linden Avery, the new doctor in town."

"Carolyn Muir," she replied with a smile. She wondered what Daniel Gregg would think of a woman doctor, and for a moment, the dark mood lightened as she thought of her ghost. "I hope Reverend Farley is not ill."

"Let's get in before _we_ are," Dr. Avery shivered, opening the door to let both of them scurry inside away from the wind. "I don't think he is. In the church bulletin, I read an announcement. You can buy a poinsettia to honor the memory of a loved one... so, I wanted to get one for Alan — my husband." For a second, it looked as if she might cry, but her face merely tightened.

"I'm a widow, too," Carolyn murmured, her mind flashing back to that cold day when the call about Bobby had come. "Six years now."

"Ten," Linden bit out, clearly restraining deep emotion. "He — was in the war. A correspondent, covering the early stages of it. He… my son never met his own father. Drat. I haven't gotten weepy in ages. I'm sorry."

Carolyn shook her head. "You're certainly entitled to be weepy once in a while when you miss him, no matter how much time has passed." For a second, she thought of the times Dash had spoken of his long dead and gone wife. All his veneer and polish vanished. He just missed her.

Dr. Avery shrugged. "It just gets worse at the holidays and all, but I guess you know that." She sniffed, and forced a smile. "It was good to meet you."

"Same here," Carolyn returned the smile. "I know how hard it is to be the newcomer in town. I still am, after a few years here. So, if you need a friend…"

"Good. I do. Thank you."

"May I help you, ladies?" Reverend Farley asked, having approached unheard.

XXX

The two women conducted their respective business in the church, and then promised to try to have lunch or something at some point in time. Carolyn knew they were probably just polite words. She'd likely only see the doctor when one of the kids got sick… hopefully not too often. She then stopped in at the _Beacon_ to run up her story before heading home. Somehow, she escaped without Mark loading her down with five hundred other tasks.

She glanced at the sky as she hurried up the sidewalk. It was as gray a day as her mood felt. She wished there were something she could do about the mood anyway. It should be simple as deciding to be happy. She had read that book about positive thinking, once, but it was not working. She was just positive that she was blue. Maybe... if she could just _accomplish _something. She remembered Jonathan asking Martha to make cookies for a school function that morning. Her son shouldn't have to ask someone else all the time. She ought to be able to do things like that for her kids.

Carolyn sighed, remembering that Martha had asked her, if she had time, could she pick up more flour and sugar for the cookies she had to make for church coffee hour the following Sunday.

_One more stop to make. Well, maybe one can't be good at just everything._

**December 9, 1970 - Wednesday**

Pausing in her typing to take a sip of coffee, Carolyn made a face. The blasted drink had gotten cold on her. As she debated getting up and going downstairs to refresh it, she grew aware that she was stiff from working so long without a break. That settled it.

As she neared the kitchen, she heard voices.

"All right, you three. I need an expert opinion on these cookies; it's a new recipe that Millie gave me," Martha said.

There was a pause, then she heard the Captain declare, "Martha, your cooking was not the primary reason I wanted to refine my ability to be solid, but it is a rather good secondary reason."

"An excellent one, I'd say. Whatever it is about this biscuit that's different, it's absolutely marvelous!" Dashire proclaimed. Carolyn just knew he was reaching for a second.

"I must be doing something wrong, if you think that's a biscuit," Martha's voice held a frown.

"English term for cookie, my dear," Dashire explained.

"Speaking of biscuits, d'ya remember the ones your Aunt Violet used to make, Danny? And she always made enough to send home a few extras for the vicar and me to have," Sean recalled fondly. "I do miss those."

"I can try to duplicate them," Martha said uncertainly.

"I think her old recipes are up in the wheelhouse, somewhere," Daniel rumbled. "If you are sure you wouldn't mind trying, I'll fetch them down later."

"I'd love to see them," Martha said as Carolyn finally opened the kitchen door.

"Hi, all," Mrs. Muir said, automatically smiling. "I needed a break," she explained as they welcomed her into the gathering.

XXX

True to his word, some little time later, Daniel retrieved the faded, fragile notebook inscribed with recipes in a spidery handwriting. The next day, when Martha was out shopping and the kids were still at school, Carolyn snuck into the kitchen. An idea had taken hold of her mind and she was determined to see it through.

After reading through Aunt Violet's biscuit recipe, she began assembling ingredients — flour, baking soda, butter, and buttermilk. The first three were simple, but she only had plain milk. Well, surely it wouldn't matter. Milk was milk, and she didn't even like the way buttermilk tasted, so surely regular milk would taste better.

_Odd, there were not any exact measurements. A handful. Whose hand? A dash?_ Carolyn had to grin at that one. _Just enough? Just enough is how much?_

She thought about giving up, but she was not one to do that. With false confidence, she began estimating about how much Aunt Violet meant. She hoped she could do it before Martha got home or before Daniel came looking for her. Finally, what felt like far too long later, she had what appeared to be decent dough. She rolled it out, having to stop and pull the dough off the rolling pin more than once, and then used a juice glass to cut the dough into biscuits. By this time, the melted butter she was supposed to flip them in was cool, but still liquid. At last, she got them in the oven.

The timer dinged as Martha entered the house followed by Sean helping her carry in groceries. Daniel appeared a second later, having heard the timer and smelled the baking bread.

"What's this?" he asked, seeing Carolyn pulling a pan out of the oven.

"Aunt Violet's biscuits, I hope." She looked down at her creation. "Er... they ought to be taller, shouldn't they?"

"How did you make them? I had to go get buttermilk for the recipe, and we're out of vinegar, so you couldn't have made the sweet milk work," Martha asked.

"I just used plain milk," Carolyn said, feeling her face heat, and not from the warm oven.

"That explains the — flatness," Martha nodded. "You need the acid in buttermilk or vinegar to make the baking soda activate. Otherwise, you get bitter hockey pucks."

"Blast," Carolyn sighed, setting the useless pan down on a trivet.

"Thank you, my dear," Daniel said quietly, seeing a tear of frustration slide down her face. "I suppose you heard Sean and me waxing eloquent about my aunt's cooking. That you wanted to try means more than I can say."

"Aye, that goes for me as well," the Irish ghost added.

Carolyn's lips thinned. "Thanks, but you don't have to say that. I never could cook worth a darn. Bobby always said I couldn't boil water without doing something wrong. I should have known better than to even try." Shoulders sagging in defeat, she excused herself.

**December 17, 1970 - Thursday**

Carolyn had gone to town, leaving Daniel at home to mull over her odd behavior. That she wanted to make those biscuits for him had been deeply touching, and he would have gladly eaten the blasted things to make her feel better, if he'd been given the chance, but she had tossed them in the garbage too fast. Her mood afterwards had been extremely muted at best, but she HAD seemed a little cheerier yesterday. Today, it had been blasted impossible to judge what her emotions were. He glanced at the barometer. Pity that he had no traitorous instrument to read her moods.

He heard a sound, a familiar wheezing. Just what he did not need — Claymore was coming up the road. He'd know that outdated automobile anywhere. Deciding to head off the interloper, he popped out to the gate.

"Gaa!" Claymore squawked. "I hate it when you do that! What if someone had seen you?"

Daniel merely glanced down the very isolated road.

"Okay, okay, point made, but you could scare ten years off my life," Claymore grinched.

"Why are you here, Claymore?" Daniel asked. "Ca… Mrs. Muir is not here."

"I know, that's why I AM here," the little man said. "I don't suppose you'd let me inside? It is cold out here." When his 'uncle' did not immediately extend the asked for invitation, Claymore forged on, "Look, I know you don't like me and think I'm a dithering dull-wit or — what was that last thing you called me..."

"Salmon brains," Daniel smiled grimly.

"Yeah, but this IS important. Like I said, it's about Mrs. Muir..."

Intrigued by Claymore's statement, despite himself, Daniel nodded tersely. "You may come in… briefly."

The two Gregg men went inside. "Coffee?" Claymore prompted.

"No, thank you," Daniel smiled.

"I mean, for me," Claymore grumbled.

Sighing, Daniel popped a cup in, handing it to his guest. "Now, what did you mean, you are here because Mrs. Muir is not?"

Claymore gulped. "Well... I saw her in town today, and… I'm worried about her. She was acting weird."

Frowning, Daniel said, "Go on."

Encouraged, Claymore took a sip of his coffee, then hurried to say, "Well, I saw her in the general store, and wished her a Merry Christmas. She almost bit my head off. Now, Captain, that is just not like her..." He grimaced. "I think I've fallen into the _Twilight Zone_. She's rude and you're being halfway... nice."

"I am not nice, especially to you," Daniel frowned. "But, I do appreciate knowing this. You SWEAR you did or said nothing to prompt her behavior?"

Claymore shook his head. "No, REALLY! I didn't get a chance. Then, I was so shocked… Well, I was worried. She's not sick or something, is she?"

Daniel frowned. He had not considered that. It couldn't be. She said she had seen the doctor, but it sounded social. "No, I believe the pressures of the season are just 'getting to her,' as the children might put it."

Claymore nodded. "Yeah. Well, I'll just be going now." He scuttled out the door.

XXX

After Claymore left, Daniel pondered the situation. Finally, feeling completely frustrated, he popped over to Dashire's house. Sean was there, playing Acey Deucy with their friend.

"Danny, good to see you," Sean grinned.

"Indeed, but you look troubled, old son. What's wrong?" Dash asked.

"Am I that transparent?" Daniel asked.

"Well, aren't we supposed to be?" Sean grinned. "Bein' ghosts and all? But, aye, to us, you are. We've known each other a long time."

Taking a seat, Daniel said, "Mates, you've both been married. Admittedly, Carolyn is not my wife, but that's only because I can see no way at present to make it so legally. The feelings are the same. And presently, my feelings are all of concern for her. She's not herself at all. You saw how she was with that culinary debacle, and how tired she's been. Now, I find she's bitten Claymore's head off."

"Danny, you do that on a regular basis," Dash chided.

"Quite true, but she is always nice to him. This is not like her at all, and I'm worried. Did Aislynn or Molly ever get in atypical moods?"

"All women do, from time to time," Dash shrugged. "It could get most interesting, in the worst way, when all the ladies of my house got in a mood at once."

"Molly had a spell of the blues from time to time," Sean nodded. "Maybe it is the holidays?" he suggested. "Perhaps not in our time, but these days, it gets complicated, I think. If I were alive, I'd be 'going bonkers' as the children might say. Did we have to do so much at this time of year back then?"

"Aislynn could get rather fancy," Dash chuckled. "But by today's standards, not really. Of course, we did have the six children to deal with."

"A good thing I kept you at sea quite a lot," Daniel grinned, despite his worry. "Otherwise you might have populated an entire town."

"Grr." Dash barred his teeth in mock fury. "Enough about me. You were concerned about Carolyn, Danny?"

"Aye. She's always in a flurry, but that's not too unusual, she stays busy. But, she's just not herself."

"You said that," Dash interjected, a more concerned look coming to his face.

"I know but, blast it, yes, I am worried. Her smiles are all… forced. It almost seems as if she's trying to convince herself she's happy." Daniel paused.

Sean O'Casey looked his oldest friend and frowned. "Something more bothering you, boyo?"

"Yes."

"What is it, man?"

"The thought came to me that…"

"That WHAT?" Dash burst out, frustrated.

"Perhaps she regrets returning here, but does not wish to hurt me?"

"Blast it, Danny, I did not force her to come home, she wanted to. Insisted. We couldn't get here fast enough!" Dashire exclaimed.

"Daniel…" Sean broke in, his face set. "I can still remember how Molly's face would light up when she'd see me. The closest thing I've ever seen to that is the way Carolyn Muir looks when she sees you or speaks of you. Dash is right. Whatever is troubling her, it is NOT being with you."

Daniel gave his two old friends a wan smile. "While I find that a relief, it is no help. If something is wrong with her, then I must fix it. But I must know WHAT I need to fix first. Blast!"

"Finances, perhaps?" Sean asked.

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so… No more than usual, as far as I know."

"Maybe trying to find perfect gifts?" Dash asked. "Or missing her parents? I recall she said they'd be in Europe this year..."

The seaman shook his head again. "No. Carolyn likes getting the right gift for everyone, but she wouldn't let looking for them depress her. And her parents have not spent Christmas here at all since she came to Gull Cottage. Therefore, I find it hard to credit that would be what is bothering her."

"You know, Danny…" Dash said thoughtfully, "over the last decades, I've spent many holiday seasons… not all of them, but some in a somber mood. None of my children or my wife lingered on earth. I still miss them at times, tremendously. And the holidays tend to make the missing more poignant."

"Aye." Sean nodded his head soberly. "I know this to be true! Danny, does Carrie get moody like this _every _holiday?"

"Good question, Sean," said Lord Dashire. "Does she?"

"Let me think..." Daniel's long fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in concentration. "Well, we hadn't known each other very long the first Christmas she was here..." He stood and started pacing. "Frankly, the first year we were still… adjusting to each other. I would not know WHAT was usual or unusual for ANY of them then. We did have to deal with a few pirates around that time, however. Blair Thompson wanted to sweep her off on his — boat — if you can call that floating locomotive of his even that, then Dr. McNally tried to convince her I was a delusion." He scowled, and returned to the front of the love seat where the other two spirits were still seated. "The second year, I believe we were both still adjusting to the idea of being in love, but not feeling sure of ourselves enough to tell one another. Perhaps we withdrew from each other somewhat, but I did give her that dream. I gave all of them that. It was a very happy time for all of us. That is what stands out in my mind from last Christmas."

"Blast, that's not helpful," said Dash, slumping in his seat.

"Danny…" Sean interrupted, looking thoughtful. "I hesitate mentioning this, but do you think she misses Robert Muir?" Daniel's frown grew deeper. "She did marry him, after all, and have two children with the man," he continued.

"I… I don't know, but Martha said once…" the seaman broke off for a moment. "I don't know."

"Martha! Excellent notion!" Dash exclaimed. "Speak to dear Martha. Truly, and I think I speak for Sean as well, we both care for Carolyn and her family deeply, as if they were ours, in the best sense of the term. However, none of us know her as Martha does. She might have a helpful clue. If so, then tell us, and if you need our help, it is yours."

"One thing I can tell you, Danny…" Sean said softly. "As you know, Molly and I knew each other from the time she was six and both before we were married, and the short time we were together after, she would get into moods. They never lasted long."

"Carolyn's mood has," Daniel insisted. "She looks tired all the time. Been sleeping at odd hours and once I swear she woke up in the wee hours with a nightmare. On top of that, she hasn't been enthusiastic about the holidays at all. Martha and the children had to say something twice about going to get the tree. Now, tomorrow she has finally decided to go shopping. She has to pick up Candy and Jonathan's new bikes — that, and do some research for a story she is working on. I'm of a mind to follow her and see if I can learn anything."

"You can't," Sean stated flatly, and Dash nodded.

"Why not?" Daniel demanded.

"Some humans have the ability to sense ghosts," Dash said. "It's a rare gift, but even in those who don't have it at birth, it does happen sometimes, when they have been around spirits for a long time. Especially spirits they have an emotional bond to. Carolyn would know what you were about, old fellow."

"Blast, but I have to know, so I can help," Daniel frowned.

"Dash or I could do it. She wouldna be as apt to sense us," Sean offered. Dash and Sean looked at each other. "Who gets the honors?" Sean continued.

"You two decide," Daniel gave his two friends another small smile. "I trust you both, implicitly."

"Done much riding in automobiles, old son?" Dash asked, looking at his former shipmate.

Sean shook his head. "Practically… no, none, really. It doesn't mean I don't want to. I just havna had much opportunity."

"Then may I suggest I follow Carolyn?" Dash asked. "She did make mention that she is going first to the library in Keystone and then to that new shopping center in Hialeah… that's in Skeldale. It's a long automobile ride. I might be just a bit less distracted, more focused... I have ridden in cars plenty of times. I'd be able to observe her more closely."

Sean nodded. "I think that might be best."

"Aye," Daniel nodded grimly. "We'll count on that, then. And, Dash?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

**December 18, 1970 - Friday **

The next morning at breakfast, Carolyn reminded the family of her plans for the day.

"Can't we come, Mom?" Candy said brightly. "We could help."

"No, dear, you have school."

"Aww, please? It's so close to Christmas break — the teachers aren't teaching very hard."

"I said, NO." There was an edge to her voice that did not invite further argument, and Martha, Daniel, and the children looked at the woman in some surprise. Carolyn had the grace to blush, and she turned back to her daughter. "I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to snap. But you DO have school, and besides, some of my Christmas shopping is for you two…" She glanced at her son. "You want to be surprised on Christmas morning, don't you?" When they nodded, she added. "Then be good, don't fuss, go to school, try to learn something, and I'll see you tonight when I get home."

"Okay, Mom," they nodded.

Carolyn decided to take the children to school herself shortly after, and then go straight from there to her errands. Charles Dashire hid in the tailgate, invisibly, until the children were dropped off, and then moved himself to the back seat.

XXX

Although Daniel was anxious to hear the results of Dash's covert mission, he was forced to be patient. There was the family dinner to participate in, and then the kids had homework before bed. When they finally did retire, he took joy in helping tuck the two children in, but he felt just a touch of pressure to get it over with. Martha went to bed in shortly thereafter, and Daniel hoped his lady would follow suit, but she wanted to read first. Had he not respected her so greatly, he might have tried to coerce her into sleep with a ghostly nudge or two, but he did not do so. Finally, at ten-thirty, she decided to turn in for the night, much to Daniel's relief. After kissing her goodnight, the ghost hastened to the wheelhouse.

"All right, Dash," Daniel scowled, handing the lord a glass of Madeira. "I've been waiting all day, and into the evening, too…"

"None too patiently, may I say," Sean cut in.

"I'm not sure if you may say, or not," Daniel looked grim.

"Calm down, Danny," Sean soothed his friend. "You can't let all this get to you. Bad enough to have Carolyn not herself. We don't need to see you getting that way, too." The Irishman poured a glass of Madeira and sat down on the love seat next to Dash.

"Sean's right," Dashire nodded. "Besides, I had to wait. I love being around this family, but it would have seemed strange if I had popped in tonight, said 'hello, I don't want to talk to you all, but Danny, could you and Sean meet me in the attic for some private conspiring, and goodbye'."

"We aren't conspiring… exactly," Daniel said, pacing the floor in front of his two friends.

"No, but we aren't exactly being straightforward, either," Dash insisted.

"No, we aren't," Daniel admitted. "But I am worried about her. However I don't want to force the issue unless I absolutely have to, and I don't know any other way to go about this." He took a deep breath. "All right, Dash. What happened today?"

"This could take a little time, Danny," the Englishman started, slowly.

"I have all night, and so do you."

"True," Dash shrugged, and leaned back in his seat. "Well, to begin with, Carolyn was fine as long as Candy and Jonathan were in the car. They chatted about a little of everything during the ride into town… school, Christmas break, etcetera."

"Well, that's good, I suppose, considering she was a bit snappy at breakfast," Daniel mused.

"That's what I thought," Dash answered, taking a swallow of wine before he continued. "It wasn't until she hit the freeway headed toward Keystone that I really noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"As in?" Sean inquired, his eyebrows going up a fraction.

"Well, for one thing," Dash continued. "She turned the radio on…"

"That's not unusual," Daniel cut in. "She often drives with music on, especially when the children are with her."

"Yes, she does, but she usually has it turned to some sort of… what do they call it? Soft listening…?"

"Easy listening," Sean cut in.

"That's it. Easy listening, or a classical station. WABI or some such. Today she had it tuned to some top-forty channel, and she had it playing much louder than she usually does." He shook his head. "It's not like her. I know because I asked her once, way back when I brought her back in May. She said if she didn't have to fight listening to words, she could usually drive and think and make notes about articles and stories and such."

"I wish she wouldn't try to drive and write at the same time," Daniel sighed. "She didn't have any close calls or anything, did she?"

Dash shook his head again. "No… and that was rather amazing, considering she not only had the music louder, she was driving faster than she usually does, too."

Daniel stopped his pacing and stared at his friend. "Fast? I don't believe it. Carolyn usually drives five miles under the limit. She's one of the most careful drivers I know... Martha being the other."

"Not today, she wasn't," Dash insisted. "Don't get me wrong, she wasn't reckless or anything, but not herself, either, as Sean says. That and she was just very… impatient today. Seemed more agitated every time the traffic slowed, or someone passed her."

"Anything else?" Daniel sighed and took another swallow of his drink.

"Yes," Dash nodded again. "About the radio."

"Again with the radio?" Sean cut in.

"Yes, again. You know this time of year… Every third song is a Christmas song of some kind. Every time the radio played one… I mean, a ballad type, or a song that mentioned snow, she changed the station. Now I call that odd."

With a start, Daniel realized that never, in the three years he and Carolyn had known each other, had he ever heard her sing, quote or even hum a Christmas carol.

"What else, Dash?" he asked.

The lord shrugged again. That's about it for unusual, until we got to the Keystone library."

"What happened there?" Sean asked. "Sorry, Danny," he added, looking up from his seat on the couch to where his friend was still pacing. "But I am just as interested as you are. I promised Carrie back in September when I met you all that I would always do whatever I could to help her. And that means whether she wants me to, or not."

"I understand," Daniel gave a weak smile. "That's what we all want… and it's why we are here." He rubbed his beard, thoughtfully. "Did anything happen at the library while she was doing her research, Dash?"

"Well, it is hard to do anything too untoward at a public library," he chuckled slightly. "Maybe… well, she did have to request assistance locating a couple of periodicals, and she asked the desk, and said please, and thank you, but she never smiled at anyone. That was a bit unusual."

"For Carolyn, definitely," Sean agreed. "What happened next, Dashire?"

"We… I mean SHE got in the car and headed for Skeldale," Dash answered. "I followed."

"Hmm… Skeldale is about fifteen miles from Keystone, isn't it?" Daniel asked.

"As humans travel, yes," Dash nodded. "And before you ask, aye. Same behavior in the car — driving a mite fast, and the radio. I did keep a careful eye on her, Danny. I don't REALLY drive, but I could have handled the wheel if it was necessary, but it wasn't."

"What happened when you reached Skeldale?" Sean interrupted. "With the mood she has been in, I hope there were no fights over parking places."

"I wouldn't have wanted to cross her either, but she got lucky there," Dash nodded. "Pulled into a nice spot at the shopping center." He sighed. "The decorations at Hialeah were lovely… the best I have ever seen, but that's another thing. If she noticed them at all, you couldn't prove it by me. It could have been just any time of year, instead of Christmas."

"And then?" Daniel's voice was impatient.

"I spent the better portion of the afternoon following her, Danny." Dashire answered. "She was businesslike and brisk, at first. Picked up something for dear Martha, a few other things for the children… but I didn't see any joy in her. I almost felt like she was in… well, not a trance, but as if she was in her own world. I think I only saw her smile twice all day. Once when she found the paints Candy has been asking about, and again when she was at… that is when she was picking up your gift, Danny, and don't bother asking me what she found for you… you'll have to wait. And on your honor, no peeking, either."

"That is the last thing on my mind at the moment," Daniel scowled. "Continue."

"She made a couple of other purchases, took them back out to the car, came back inside to the store where she had Candy and Jonathan's bikes on lay-away… you know…"

Daniel nodded. "Carolyn told me about then in October. She was thrilled to find them."

"Precisely," Dash agreed. "As I was saying, I think it was when she was standing in the lay-away line waiting her turn that I really noticed her starting to go downhill again."

"As in…?" Sean asked, another frown coming to his face.

"I'd honestly say it was disturbing," Dash continued. "As I said, she was standing in the lay-away line, about twenty people ahead of her, I would imagine, and…"

"And WHAT?" Daniel burst out impatiently. "Dash, will you just hurry up…"

"Danny…" Sean interjected softly. "He's tryin' to."

"Blast… I know," Daniel whispered. "It's just that… sorry, Dash."

"I understand…" The lord nodded again. "No offense taken. But as I was saying, this next part I… I just don't understand at all. There was a group of Christmas carolers... high school kids, in the middle of the store. They were singing. You know, live carols instead of the recorded music that department stores usually have. Nice idea, I thought. Reminded me a little of a hundred years ago, when we all went caroling, or at least heard other carolers at Christmastime. Everyone around… those in line, and those just shopping were enjoying hearing the youngsters sing. Everyone but Carolyn, that is. She stood there, and I knew she was listening to them… hard not to be, but she was the only one that didn't applaud or at least smile at the group after each number, and she didn't make comments to anyone else in line, and..."

"…And?" Daniel repeated.

"Well, the choir reached their last number. They started singing _Have Yourself a_ _Merry Little Christmas, _and well, Carolyn just sort of… what is the expression Candy and Jonathan use? She "lost it?" I was observing her quite closely, by that point. She started crying. Not howls, you understand, but definitely tears, and more than a few, and her face was all scrunched up and then…"

"Dash, what...?"

"Carolyn bolted out of line, and practically _ran_ to the ladies room... I didn't follow her, gentleman that I am, of course. She was back in five minutes, looking more put together, but still a hair shaky. The song was over by then, naturally, and she started to go to the end of the line all over again. Lucky for her the woman who was behind her in line the first time around noticed her and let her back in, in front of her again. Carolyn did smile and say thank you to her. She reached the counter, finally, claimed the bikes… I didn't realize those contraptions don't come fully assembled, by the way…"

"Dash…"

"I know, 'what happened'? Anyway, she paid for them, and it took her two trips to get them loaded in the back of the station wagon… blast it, I wanted to help her lug them to the car, but the jig'dve been up then…"

"Indeed," Sean nodded.

"Yes. They're still in the back there, by the way, covered with a blanket. I can't wait to see how they all fit together. Anyway, she got in the car, and drove home. Didn't smile, didn't listen to the radio at all. Not for thirty miles. It was eerie.**" **

"That's all?" Daniel queried.

"That's all. She arrived home, safe and sound, and I knew that it was time I made my exit."

"**Blast**!" Daniel thundered. "What on earth is the matter with the woman, and why won't she say something to someone?"

His friends shook their heads.

"I don't know," said Sean. "But Danny, I think it is time you talked to Martha."

"I'm not sure if Martha will tell me anything…" he paused. "But I think I have to try… tomorrow… as soon as I can."

**December 20, 1970 - Sunday**

"Martha, might I have a word?" Daniel asked, popping into the kitchen. Carolyn had refrained from working after church, and had taken the children ice skating, so the ghost and Martha had the run of the house.

"You can have a whole sentence, even a paragraph," she quipped, pausing her cleaning. With a frown she looked at Daniel more closely. "What's wrong, Captain?"

Pulling his earlobe thoughtfully, he replied, "Martha, have you noticed anything — off-kilter with Mrs. Muir of late?"

"Such as?"

He shook his head. "It's hard to put my finger on, exactly, but she's just not seemed altogether happy in these last weeks, and I am concerned. Given your long friendship with her, I hoped you would have some clue of what might be troubling her and how I can help." He paced a few steps. "There are times, I grant, that she seems herself, such as on her birthday, but for the most part, the sparkle has left her."

Martha's lips pursed. "Captain, you are right — I have been Mrs. Muir's employee and friend a long time, and that gives me an 'inside track,' you might say. But it also means I can't go blabbing." Seeing his distress, she relented, just a hair. "But, you are not imagining things. I'm concerned too, but I _**know**_ it will pass off… around New Year's."

"Martha, please. You know I care for her greatly, and only wish to help," he wheedled, already knowing from the look on Martha's face he didn't have a chance in worming it out of her.

"I know, Captain," she nodded. "But I just wouldn't feel right if I told you something she didn't tell you herself. Just keep loving her and she'll be back to herself soon. You're the best thing that's happened to her in a long time, and she knows it. Just — sometimes, the past can have a hold on someone, whether they want it to or not." She paused. "And please, I know by now you must have talked this over with Sean and Lord Dashire. Keep them calm. Let them know she will get better. Now, if you will excuse me, my cleaning awaits."

Daniel Gregg scratched his _head. Now what on earth does she mean?_

XXX

As Advent progressed, Daniel's worry waxed and waned, but mostly waxed. There were days Carolyn would almost seem to be herself, but they did not last. Some incident would bring his concerns back with interest before he could completely relax.

**Thursday, December 24, Christmas Eve — Seven p.m.**

As the Muir family got ready for the Candlelight service, Carolyn glanced over at their ghost. "I'd like it if you came with us, tonight. The church will be only dimly lit, but you could appear as Danny again."

Startled, Daniel blinked, and then smiled. "I would like that. Thank you, Madam."

"Sean and Dash are welcome to come, too," she continued, allowing the Captain to help her into her coat.

"Dashire's made a tradition for the last fifteen years or so to spend holidays with his attorney's family. This may be the last year for it. Dash mentioned that the father has purchased a second home in some vacation-type area, and the youngest son has taken the practice, and inherited Dash. He may not celebrate so much without his family around. As far as Sean goes, there's a church with a singing Christmas tree program he wanted to see this evening. However, they will both be here tomorrow."

Carolyn looked surprised. "I didn't know Dash had a **—** family."

"He doesn't, really, except for this one. I think only the elder and now the junior Misters Pierce knows what he is. Mrs. Pierce was apparently appalled that her husband was allowing his most major client to spend the holidays alone, and insisted on him being invited. Since Dash has been adept at being tangible for some time, it was simple for him to accept."

"Maybe next year, we should invite the son, if he's alone. Return the favor," Carolyn mused as the kids came downstairs. "Jonathan, you missed a button."

"It's a new coat, I'm not used to it," the boy explained. He and Candy had opened the gifts from the Muirs, new coats. It was less than thrilling, but needed.

"Why're we going early?" Candy asked.

"Because Martha is playing the organ and needs to be there half an hour before it starts," Carolyn replied with a hint of weariness. "The Captain is going with us," she added.

"Yay!"

No one paid undue attention to the tall stranger with the Muir family. Several families had out-of-town guests. Across the church, she could see her new doctor friend with a boy Candy's age and a teenaged one who appeared completely fascinated by the small sanctuary. Carolyn half-waved, but she didn't think any of them saw her.

The music was beautiful, and the sermon simple, yet profound. Somehow, being in a room lit only with flickering candles made the words carry greater impact. From time to time, Daniel's attention wandered away from the service to glance at his family. When the time came for each congregant to light their candle from the person's beside them, Carolyn turned to light his. For a moment, their eyes met. The ghost was not sure, but there was a sense of peace in her eyes that he had missed seeing… an easing of the tension that had run just under her face. The worry that had gripped his own heart abated just slightly. Perhaps Martha was right. Maybe **his** Carolyn had returned. As the words of _O Holy Night_ filled the darkness, they filed out of the chapel into the cool evening air.

Hope filled Daniel Gregg, as he prayed that a miracle he had not even known how to ask for had been granted.

**Christmas Day **—** One a.m.**

"There, my dear," Daniel said, giving the bolt and nut holding the front wheel of Jonathan's new Stingray one more twist. "I think that does it. Are you finished with Candy's bike?"

"If I can get this tassel to stay, I will be," Carolyn said, sounding exhausted. "It just won't..." she grunted. "There. I have it. Finished." She gave the pink bike in front of her a crooked smile. "One of these days I am going to strangle the person who made up the phrase "Easy assembly." No assembly is easy!"

"I would have to agree," the spirit said, coming toward her and putting his arm around her waist. "But we are done at last, and I think we ought to celebrate. How would you like a glass of Madeira before retiring?"

"That would be lovely," she smiled wearily, her gaze fell upon the clock. "One-thirty! Gracious, I'm not sure it's worth going to sleep at all. Jonathan still believes in Santa Claus, and I know he'll be up in about — four hours, if we're lucky. He may not wait that long."

Daniel noticed the time as well. "'Tis indeed after midnight. Merry Christmas, my dear."

"Merry Christmas," she said softly, standing on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around him, giving him a lingering kiss that built into more before they finally broke apart.

"You know, I could arrange for the children to sleep a hair later in the morning," he whispered.

"What? And ruin their fun?" She smiled. "Can't have that. Besides, you can't make Sean and Dash sleep. And they will be here bright and early, too. Dash has already claimed Santa's cookies. But I do think a glass of Madeira is in order. Can you give me a few minutes to get out of these slacks and into something a bit looser before I join you in the wheelhouse?"

"Most assuredly," he nodded. "I need to get the glasses and... Well, you'll know soon enough. Ten minutes then?"

"That will be plenty of time," she answered, and headed for the stairs.

XXX

When she reached the wheelhouse, he was waiting for her. "Right on time," the spirit smiled. "And lovely as ever." He surveyed the long, green dressing gown she was wearing. "That color suits you magnificently, my dear."

Shaking her head, Carolyn demurred, "Captain, you are getting better at blarney than Dash."

"'Tis no blarney, Carolyn," he assured her. "Have a seat, and close your eyes." When she looked dubious, he added, "Trust me," When he said that, she had no choice but to do as he asked.

A few moments later she felt something small being pressed into her right hand and a wineglass appeared in her left.

"Open your eyes now," he said, the tone of his voice slightly demanding, but yet in another way, as eager as Jonathan's on Christmas morning. Doing has he commanded, she saw what could only be a jeweler's box in one hand and the promised Madeira in the other.

"Presents? Now?" she exclaimed. "Not fair. I don't have yours with me. I was going to bring it downstairs tomorrow morning."

"Where is it?"

"Under my bed, of course."

"Is it wrapped?"

"Naturally."

"Then I can open it now," he announced, the gift suddenly appearing in his hands.

"Who first?" she started. "No — you go first. I'm anxious to see if you like what I found for you. You are no easier to shop for than you ever were."

"I am equally anxious to see what you think of yours," he pointed out. "Furthermore, I AM easy to shop for! Any gift from you is a treasure."

Blushing, she looked down, and then met his eyes again. "Still, I want to get it right. You… matter so much to me, Daniel. Please... you go first."

"But it's _ladies _first."

"Ah, or ladies' _choice_, and I can't wait. So YOU go first."

"It goes against my better judgment," he said doubtfully. "But if you insist..."

"I do."

"Very well." Silently, he peeled away the wrapping paper on his gift. "A humidor!" he exclaimed, looking at his present with delight. "For my pipe tobacco and cigars!" Carefully he examined the small chest made of oak that had been carefully rubbed, buffed and polished. "See here! A rack for three pipes... drawers... and the tobacco jar! Why, it's crystal! My dear, this is beautiful! How did you know this is something I have needed for... oh, I can't tell you how long?"

"Dash suggested it," she said shyly. "I was at a loss, and did so want to get you something really special, but he thought it would be right, and Sean agreed. There is a gift certificate inside. It's for that tobacconist shop Dash likes in Skeldale. You can pick out whatever kind of tobacco and equipment you want. That was MY idea."

Almost before she finished the words, his lips were on hers. Too soon, he pulled back. "Beautiful, thoughtful, and clever. How did I get so fortunate as to find you? I hope you like your gift as well."

"I think I just did," Carolyn replied half-teasingly, half-sincerely.

"That was for both of us," the ghost smirked, and then glanced at the box still in her hand. Setting her glass aside, Carolyn removed the paper, ignoring his impatience with her slowness. When she opened the lid of the jeweler's box inside, Carolyn gasped. Even in the moonlight, she could see the blaze of stones in their simple setting; two blue topazes, a citrine, a diamond, and a sapphire were artfully arranged on a golden band.

"It's a family ring," he explained. "The blue topaz stones are for the children, the citrine, or yellow topaz represents you, though I do think a finer stone would be more suitable, the sapphire is for Martha. I finally learned her state secret." She could hear the smile in his voice. "And I presumed to add my own birth stone, the diamond. I hope you do not mind?" He wondered if she would ask how he got the funds. No, he had not terrorized Claymore. He had simply gotten Dash to ask his attorney to pawn a gold doubloon from one of his sea chests.

"No, of course not, you are..." she broke off. Tears streamed down her face, turning the stones into a muted rainbow seen through the drops falling from her eyes.

"Carolyn? Madam? Did I overstep? If you do not like it, or if I was inappropriate..." Daniel rushed to say, slightly panicked. "I am not attempting to take your late husband's place, merely conveying a feeling I thought you shared. I know you still love him, but I had hoped..."

She waved one hand. "No... It's not. I don't want you to fill his place. Once, I did love Bobby, I'm sure. But it's hard to remember that. When he died, love was the last thing I felt for him. Love him? No. I don't love Bobby Muir. Just you. I just love YOU."

"You... you don't?" The spirit looked truly dumbfounded. "But I thought..." he broke off, taking a swallow from his wineglass.

Carolyn tried unsuccessfully to wipe at the tears still flowing down her cheeks. "What POSSIBLY makes you think I am still in love with Bobby? I don't love him."

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, the spirit blotted his lady's eyes gently. Then, after only a moment's hesitation, Captain Gregg replied, halfway making his words a question, "You have been so — unhappy — for these last weeks, since his parents were here. I thought perhaps...?"

"You thought I was missing... BOBBY?" Carolyn looked almost astonished. "Miss... I haven't thought about that word in connection with Robert Muir for... six years. More, really." She laughed bitterly and took a swallow of Madeira. "How do I feel about my husband? My dead husband? I'd say 'still angry' covers a few pages... humiliation... regret... and guilt that I _don't_ mourn him, but not love." Her mind flashed briefly to seeing the doctor, who clearly still mourned her lost husband.

Daniel was stunned. Yet, somehow, it suddenly made sense that she had mentioned Bobby Muir only a handful of times since he had known her. Not sure what else to say, he asked for more information.

"Would you like to tell me about this?"

Taking a shuddering breath, Carolyn considered, then nodded. "Yes. I think — I think it is time I did. I suppose, considering everything that has happened, I should have told you about Bobby back when Dash and Claymore brought us home, but I've been so happy... the last thing I wanted to do is think about HIM."

The spirit nodded and watched as Carolyn twisted her wedding ring nervously.

"If you would rather wait..."

"No... I'm just trying to figure out how to begin."

"At the beginning?"

"Then we really wouldn't get any rest before the kids wake up."

"Carolyn..."

"I know. You don't sleep. And I don't think I could now if I tried." She inhaled deeply. "This is hard for me to talk about... I wasn't trying to keep it from you, really."

"I understand," Daniel nodded. "We are still discovering one another, and that is a process that I hope never ends."

"I hope you still think that after tonight," she sighed.

"Of course I will," The spirit looked surprised. "Now relax... you have your Madeira... and if you like you can put your Christmas present..."

Carolyn cut him off. "No... I think I'll just hold on to this, if you don't mind..." she gave the beautiful ring another peek, still not taking it out of it's box, but grasped it tightly. Haltingly, she began. "Bobby and I met when I was in my early twenties, and I suppose, fell in love. Bobby seemed to have more — depth than Blair Thompson. He proposed under the trees in his parent's garden. Even though Ralph didn't exactly think I was the right woman for his son, the Muirs accepted me. Dad didn't think much of Bobby either, but what father likes his daughter's suitor? Our parents were planning for the wedding to be the social event of the year in Philly, and it was just too overwhelming. To avoid that, we eloped. Bobby wasn't sure he'd make a good father, so we'd been married a while before Candy came along. After that, things got — tense, gradually. He was unhappy that she was not a son. It seemed I'd failed him, and he'd failed Ralph. The pregnancy had been hard, therefore, we didn't try again for some time, and in the meantime, I suspected, but never knew for sure, that he — began seeing other women… several of them, in fact. After Jonathan was born, I thought it would get better — he had his son. But, things were just too far-gone. Right before our last Christmas, I found proof that he was having an affair, and confronted him. We had a terrible fight. I refused to let him ruin the holiday for the kids, and he knew he'd look like the jerk he was, even to his parents, if he left at Christmas. So, he waited and left immediately afterwards to go on a holiday vacation with his latest mistress. Less than a week later, while I was still trying to decide how to best handle a divorce, Cheryl, his... his lover, called to tell me I did not need one. I was now a widow." She sighed. "That moment is still so clear… it was after Christmas, but _Have Yourself a Merry_ _Little Christmas_ was playing on the radio, and I remember thinking mine had been anything but that, and then…" Carolyn paused again and took another swallow from her wineglass.

"What happened to him, darling?" Daniel asked. "A car accident? The snow?"

"That would have been simple," Carolyn shook her head. "I'm afraid the way he died was just a bit more bizarre than that. You might recall how Ralph bragged about Bobby being a man's man, able to do any sort of sport, and so on? A veritable Lancelot to hear him talk. Bobby believed it, so even though he'd only skied a little bit, he went downhill skiing on one of the harder courses, presumably to impress Cheryl. He and a tree had an encounter." She laughed, her tone bitter. "My parents... they probably suspect, but I've always been too ashamed that my husband had to seek out another woman… multiple other women, to tell anyone. Martha knows... she has a way of getting the truth out of you, for your own good. I just hope the kids don't know, but sometimes, I think Candy knows a little of it."

"But the Muirs know nothing? I mean, him going off... leaving you with two small children... how did he explain that?"

"He didn't have to, remember?" Carolyn's tone was ironic and she took another sip of her drink. "Bobby worked for Ralph, and arranged for the time off first. Then, from what I gather, he called his parents right after he got to the ski lodge. He said that he had planned this trip as a wonderful surprise for me, but as it turned out, I wasn't feeling up to it. That I wanted to stay with the kids, not go on a romantic vacation, but he had gotten such a deal on it because the tickets were non-refundable. So, he went ahead and took the trip. Obviously he didn't tell them his mistress took the trip with him. It was, in a way, true. I did not want to go running off on a trip, especially with HIM, nor did I want to just leave the kids. However, he never had any intention of asking me along. Then, as I said, Cheryl, his mistress, called me after they found him, and I left the kids with Martha and got to Aspen and started making all the..." she gulped. "...Arrangements. Ralph and Marjorie never knew what kind of weasel their son had turned into."

"Blast," Daniel fumed. "I wish I could have just five minutes with that bounder! It's remarkable that the man is resting in peace! And here I was complaining about Ralph stealing my Madeira two years ago, and this visit, too! If I had had to listen to that prattle, knowing what I know now, like you have had to this last week, and when they were here before, I... I wouldn't have. I would have exploded. My dear, you have the fortitude, the patience of... I don't know what. You could have gone through a gallon of Madeira just putting up with your father-in-law."

"Why do you think whenever Ralph is around, I sew?" A half-grin lit up her face for a moment. "I can concentrate on that and let him blather, and contribute as little as possible to the conversation. I know if I say anything, I WILL either cry or blow up, as you said, and I don't like doing either."

"I can certainly understand now why you were so worried about moving back to Philadelphia two years ago," Daniel added, refilling her glass. "Or consider the idea of Jonathan attending Dexter Academy."

"Right," she nodded. "I don't want Jonathan... or Candy, near Ralph's influence for ANY length of time. The only reason I ever thought about moving at all when they were here before is I knew that in their own way they did miss the children, especially Marjorie, and..."

"And what, darling?" Daniel took another swallow of the sweet wine and moved closer to his love.

"Well, I never mentioned this before either, but I knew... even way back then, how very much I was coming to love you, even if I couldn't touch you then, and I thought our situation was hopeless. For a moment, that night in the fog I wondered if I should leave, and do the sensible thing and let Ralph take charge, but I know I couldn't. I didn't want Ralph to raise my children, and I'd miss you too much. I couldn't leave."

"I'm very glad of that," he whispered, bending his head slightly, and giving her a sweet kiss that was eagerly returned. Then he pulled away again, and looked puzzled. "But you've been so unhappy the last few weeks, since the Muirs visited. If you haven't been missing your blighter of a husband... your _dead and departed_ husband... what is it? Darling, have you any doubts about us? I know our relationship isn't exactly conventional, and I know there are men who can give you much more, but... my dear, why have you been so miserable?"

She shook her head. "It's silly… really just a combination of stuff. Seeing Ralph and Marjorie, listening to Ralph go on and on about Bobby and not being able to say what I really feel about him, the holidays… they always remind me of how things collapsed for real this time of year. It seems so long ago, until the festivities begin, then it comes back and I have to hide what I feel. That seems to make it worse. And… shortly after the Muirs left, I know this is warped, but I ran into the new doctor. Like me, she's a fairly young widow, with a child to raise. She was buying a poinsettia for the church memorial display, to honor her husband. I'd never waste money honoring Bobby's memory, but for her, it was not a waste. She loved and missed… I think she called him Alan. I envied the fact that he was a man worth missing."

"I see..." he nodded.

"Do you?" she asked, sliding her hand into his. "Like I said, I know it sounds strange, but I feel like I wasted a few years... on Bobby, I mean. And yet I know they weren't wasted because I have Candy and Jonathan and they are the two biggest joys of my life and I know... what's that phrase...? What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, but sometimes I wish God didn't have such faith in me, and I wonder what else is going to happen." She gave him a smile. "I love being here with you, and the children. We're a family, I think... But... Daniel, are you happy? I mean, being here? At Gull Cottage? Still?"

He paused, not because there was any doubt in his mind, but he did not wish to appear to answer without thinking. "Had you asked me that four years ago, I would have said yes, but been lying — not just to you, but to myself. However, my answer would be the same today, only now, it would be truer than words can say. You, your children, Martha, even that walking hairball have taught me what the word "happy" truly means. I only wish that I could give you the life you should have had with that bilge-rat who did not have the brains to know what a treasure he had." He looked deeply in her eyes. "I think God's trust in you is well placed, and though I deeply wish it could all be easier for you, this I vow, whatever the else that happens is, you will not face it alone as long as I am in this world."

She sighed again and nestled closer to him. "Thank you, Daniel. I feel the same. I was hoping that you would feel this way, but I guess... the holidays, remembering I needed to hear it from you."

"I'll say it a hundred times a day if only that light I love will come back to your eyes again."

"You don't have to. Just give me that smile that's just for me. Just touch my hand, and have that look in your eyes that promises to be here," Carolyn whispered.

He looked at her closely. "Ah, I think I see a bit more sparkle there... Carolyn?"

"Yes?"

"Do you forgive me?"

She moved away from him, startled. "Forgive you? What on earth for?"

"Put your head back where it belongs and I'll tell you," he said, drawing her close once more. You husband died in..."

"…December of nineteen sixty-four," she finished. Candy had just barely turned four years old and Jonathan two."

"And you arrived at Gull Cottage September twenty-first of nineteen sixty-eight," Daniel nodded. "And both Christmases… Both that first year, and the second, I never caught on to how much the holidays bothered you... that it was a rough time of year for you, remembering everything. For that, I am very sorry."

Carolyn shook her head and turned her eyes to his. "You have no reason to be, Daniel. That first year, we barely knew each other..."

"But we did..." he insisted, stubbornly. "I knew you well enough to want undivided time with you once a week, despite your needs. I knew you well enough to know you wouldn't be satisfied until you could help Martha with her love life, and I knew you well enough to know I didn't want you to leave when that rascal Thompson visited. So that logically means I should have known you well enough to know that you weren't happy that first Christmas. I DID notice it... in a way, but, idiot that I am, I just assumed you were missing your relatives in Philadelphia and your husband, and then... then..." The spirit spoke faster and faster. "The second year I gave you that dream... We were together in MY time, not yours, and I did mean it as a gift for you and the children and Martha, and even Claymore, but it was a gift for me too, and even Admiral Wolfston questioned that, and..."

"Hang the blasted Admiral," Carolyn stated flatly. "He is over and done. What I do remember is I never, ever, ever..." Lifting her face to his once more, Carolyn kissed her Captain. "…I never said thank you for that, Daniel. I never told you, I just… didn't have the words then to tell you how much the dream you gave us meant to me. It was the happiest Christmas I'd had in far too long."

"I'm glad..." he whispered, drawing her closer, if such a thing were possible, and kissed her again. "I must say, tonight has answered some questions I have had in my mind for a long time."

"About Bobby?" she asked, looking at him directly.

"Yes."

"You could have asked before. I would have told you," she answered, turning the gold wedding ring on her finger. "Certainly after we came back."

Daniel laid his large hands over hers.

"Would you?" he asked. "Would you, Carolyn? You know I love you, but I must admit, sometimes I have wondered about your feelings. Toward me. Still. Just a bit. You being here, and the idea that you still wore your husband's wedding ring, yet you never seemed upset that I was here haunting, and your husband, who's ring you wear was not. Haunting, I mean." Silently, he looked down at her hands and the ring she still wore.

"Oh, Daniel..." Carolyn whispered. "I wish you would have said something! Certainly after we... I mean us, our relationship... our understanding... blast, you know what I mean..." she shrugged. "I think I have continued to wear Bobby's ring because I was expected to... some traditions... taboos... whatchamacallits, don't change that much in a hundred years. It was expected in your time, too, I believe. Divorcees can take their rings off right away, or, as my friend Paula explained to me once, you switch your wedding ring to your right hand so people know you are newly single and looking. I've wanted to take it off... I sold my engagement ring to help with expenses before we moved here. I certainly didn't want it. I guess I kept my wedding ring on to prove I was a quiet, staid, respectable widow, who just wanted a new place to live and a quiet place to raise her family." She grinned. "Instead you turned me into a wild woman... you and _Maiden_ _Voyage!" _She giggled, and then her face turned serious. "But you ARE right. It's time to lose this ring."

"Carolyn, you don't have to, I understand…"

She shook her head. "No… nobody is making me do anything. I realized that tonight… finally. I was sitting there in the church, with you, and it suddenly hit me. Here I was, surrounded by all this beauty… the music, the candles, the decorations… we're all healthy, the kids are happy and doing well in every way, we don't want for anything, much, my career is going well. You and I just wrote a book, and it was PUBLISHED for heaven's sake… And I thought, how stupid of me. I…"

"You were not stupid," Daniel protested, holding her close and stroking her hair.

"Yes, I was, or maybe just silly." She moved away for a moment and looked up at him. "I can't go back and change the way I have been feeling, but I don't have to feel like that any more. I have you. I have Candy and Jonathan and Martha — Sean and Dash are wonderful friends, I have a life I enjoy a career that is blooming... and I realized I was still letting Bobby get to me. Bobby is gone. He can't hurt me anymore. I won't LET him hurt me, or spoil any more Christmases. Not ever again."

Carolyn looked down at her hand and gave the gold band she had worn for so long a tug, and it slipped off her finger easily. Placing it in the pocket of her robe, she tilted her head back up to look at her Captain. Silence hung in the room for a few moments. "I believe I do have a ring that belongs on this finger?" she asked quietly. "I certainly hope so, anyway."

Daniel nodded slowly and reached for the velvet box, still in Carolyn's lap, then, taking the ring out, he held it out to her, slowly slipped it onto her outstretched finger and cleared his throat several times. "And don't you dare ask me if I am catching a cold," he gruffed. "Carolyn, I tried for a week to write you another poem for tonight, but I've been so worried about you, I just... couldn't. All I could think of were words that other poets have said much better than I and my words wouldn't come, so..."

"So?" she smiled with trembling lips and once again the tears — happy tears — were falling.

"So I think I would rather quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge," he said huskily, drawing her close.

"Daniel…" Carolyn smiled and put her arms around him. "I love hearing you recite poetry… I'd listen to you recite the phonebook, but now really isn't the time for _Rime of the Ancient Mariner…"_

"I think NOT!" the ghost huffed, "but I'll have you know that Coleridge wrote love poems…" he murmured, kissing her once more… his mouth traveling to her throat and then back up to her waiting lips, and beyond. "Beautiful poetry…" he whispered, his velvet voice tickling her ear.

"Really? What?" she answered weakly, leaning further into him. "Daniel…"

"_**The Presence of Love…"**_he whispered."_**And in life's noisiest hour, there whispers still the ceaseless love of thee, the heart's self-solace and soliloquy." **_He broke off, and kissed her once more… a kiss that left her breathless. "_**You mold my hopes, you fashion me within; and to the leading love-throb in the heart thro' all my being, thro' my pulse's beat; you lie in all my many thoughts, like light, like the fair light of dawn, or summer eve on rippling stream, or cloud-reflecting lake." **_

"Daniel…" she started, but stopped as he cupped her chin, then softly stroked her cheek.

"_**And looking to the heaven that bends above you, how oft! I bless the lot that made me love you."**_

Taking her hand, Daniel kissed the ring he had just slid on her finger and then her mouth — A tender kiss, yet passionate. Holding her close, the Ghost of Gull Cottage felt his lady relax totally, and the tenseness that had been present the last month completely melted away.

"Happy Christmas, Carolyn," he whispered, and as his lips claimed hers once more, he knew it was a very, Merry Christmas, indeed.


End file.
